


Hate To Love You

by Katmousse



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Referenced John Hancock/Sole Survivor, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katmousse/pseuds/Katmousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danse hates Hancock. He hates that Nora loved Hancock. But what he hates more, is that he has fallen deeply and shamefully in love with the ghoul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An ongoing gift for a friend who wanted to remain anonymous c: 
> 
> This is my second fanfiction ever, and my first chapter fic. I hope to write quite a few chapters for this piece!

 

Out in the Commonwealth, few soldiers got proper burials, and even less a real funeral service. But Nora was well liked and built a large community of friends and allies around herself. She was deeply cared for, and now greatly mourned.

  
Each of Nora's friends came to pay their respects to the fallen hero. Codsworth refused to leave his master's side, wailing out apologies and begging for it to not be real. The machine showed more human emotion for his beloved master than most humans even had.

  
Nick clutched his hat to his chest, staring sorrowfully into the specially made casket. Deep bruises marked her otherwise pale face. If he could, Nick would be crying right now. "Kid..." Piper gently pushed him away, knowing he would never be able to move an inch from the spot he stood at alone. Cait, Deacon, and McCready were all equally silent, knowing if they dared utter a word, their voices would crack and would each amount to sobbing messes at the ground like Garvey and Kent had become.

  
Many folks came to pay their respects to the woman who would be buried in the yard of her Pre-War home. It only seemed fitting. Ghouls from The Slog came. Citizens from both Goodneighbor and Diamond City came. Other's hadn't the heart to see her dead.

  
No one was quite hurt like Danse, however. He'd failed in protecting her. When the out lash of bullets fell upon their resting area, neither were prepared. Nora stepped out of her power armor, believing their location to be safe. Danse foolishly let her talk him into relaxing for once as well. He barely had time to grab a gun when the bullet ripped through her chest and pierced her heart. In a mindless haze, Danse slaughtered the sons of bitches in less than a minute. Nora gasped for air, eyes filled with fear. She attempted to say something but failed, gurgling on her own blood, eyes finally glazing over.

  
For two days, Danse carried her lifeless corpse back to Sanctuary without a single rest stop. He constantly racked his brain in an attempt to figure out what she had have tried to tell him. _Goodbye? Save me? I'm scared? ....I love you?_

  
Danse frowned at the memory. His mind began to try for the thousandth time to decode her dying message again until he was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw that _ghoul_ with his hand in her coffin.

  
Temper boiling, he jumped to his feet and slowly marched to where the coffin sat in front of the many rows of chairs. He bit the inside of his lip, careful not to lose his temper and alarm others. From the looks of it, he was simply headed to say his own farewell to his companion just as everyone else had. In reality, he wanted to see what that _thing_  was doing to her.

  
Upon arrival, he noticed they decided to lay her to rest in her Silver Shroud outfit. Fabric noticeably tucked in under the coat at her breast stuck out slightly, a dull reminder of why she lay in this coffin in the first place. Hancock did not turn to him, although Danse was certain the ghoul knew of his presence. Hancock was lightly rubbing his frail fingers across her cold cheek. The loving gesture caught Danse off guard. He was both surprised and disgusted, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood now. He didn't want to cause a scene here, that would be too disrespectful. And there were quite a lot of ghouls present. He knew Nora would not approve.

  
Danse watched as Hancock slowly drew his hand away from her body. He turned slowly to look up at Danse and smiled sorrowfully to the man before departing. Danse furrowed his brow as he watched the ghoul drag his feet away from the ceremony and into a house. _No doubt to get high_ Danse quickly concluded. 

He took a look at Nora and peeled his eyes away almost immediately, guilt overtaking him once more.

  
Danse didn't know _why_ , but he moved in the same direction Hancock had. Maybe it was because Nora begged him to give ghouls a chance. Maybe it was that he sensed some sort of bonding opportunity. Maybe he felt sympathetic. Maybe it was because Hancock looked just as broken as he felt. He didn't know what the reason was, but he followed after Hancock.


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the crumbling remains of a house long forgotten, Hancock sat slackly on what once was probably an old countertop. The ancient wood squeaked under him, straining to support his weight. If it snapped and gravity sent him plummeting into the jagged rubble underneath he figured it wouldn't hurt any more than this emotion turmoil did.

Hancock had never felt like this, and honestly, he was not sure how to cope. He felt regret for being wrongfully angry with his brother. He regretted running out on his family. He felt sad, but mostly angry and sickened when those innocent ghouls were killed in Diamond City. But he'd never had such a strong connection with anyone like he did Nora.

He fiddled his knife between his thumb and index finger and pulled his lips into a fine line. God, it had been ages since he cried. The last time he remembered crying is when he was a boy back in Diamond City and his brother twisted his arm behind his back to the point he thought it would snap. He didn't even cry when he turned into a ghoul.

A tear forced itself through his tear duct, rolling down his face, turning the many dips and deep scars into its own unique aqueduct. Hancock felt nothing more than a light burning sensation in his eye and only realized he was indeed crying when the droplet fell to his jeans.

Once the first tear fell, the rest followed suit like an unrelenting stream. He didn't shake, he didn't even peep a sound. He just sat like stone as all of his bottled up emotions came flooding out through his eyes.

And that's how Danse found him. Sitting on old wood facing the wall. It was unsettling to see the ghoul in such a state. His usual cocky demeanor disappeared with Nora.

Danse stepped carefully across the warped floor, unsure of just how he should approach the ghoul now that he was in here.

"She told me she loved me."

Danse stiffened as he felt his blood run cold. Hancock's revelation chilled him to the core. He knew Hancock had impure thoughts about Nora--hell, everyone knew that, it only took one look to see the way Hancock watched her to know that. But to hear it come from his own withered lips...that was something else.  


Danse tried to form words but found he was at a lost. He saw Hancock dig into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. For once, Danse felt ashamed for assuming it would be something else.

"I told her she was crazy. Said she didn't know what she was saying." He took a long draw from his cigarette. "Then she kissed me." Danse heard his voice shake. Hancock dropped his cigarette to the ground after only one puff from it.

"I know you don't care much for us ghouls, and you probably don't wanna hear it from me, but Nora.. she cared a lot about you too. Should have seen the way she talked to Maxson after...well, ya know."

"Yeah." Danse finally spoke and Hancock turned to face him. His tears stopped flowing once he began talking to Danse, but the stains were evident. Danse didn't even know ghouls were capable of crying.

"I uh... I didn't know you two were... in love." Danse attempted to commit to the conversation. When he entered the house, he wasn't sure what he would do or say to the ghoul. Now that he was here and Hancock opened up to him, expecting absolutely nothing in return, he found that it wasn't so bad, in fact, it seemed almost civil.

"Love," Hancock laughed. "I don't know..."

Danse frowned. "Did you not love her?" The thought of Nora falling for someone who hadn't cared for her angered him. Just when he was beginning to think the ghoul was worth a damn...

"It ain't like that. Love just takes time. I mean, it ain't like I've been in love before. I loved her, but I didn't get the chance to _love_ her. Didn't get to court her, pick her bouquets of flowers... _marry_ her." Hancock laughed at the thought.

"Do you think you would have married her?" Danse asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. Not many people got married out here.

Hancock looked at the former paladin for a long time before answering. "I don't know. Who would marry a human and a ghoul?" He looked pained.

Danse focused his attention on the split floorboards underneath his feet. "I don't know." He answered honestly.

It hurt to know Nora's feelings had never mirrored his own. All this time, Danse thought he had something special with her. He thought their relationship together had been different. As it turned out, he was the only one who thought that. She saw him in the same light she saw her other companions. Hancock was the one who was special. Looking back on it, Danse realized he didn't even know her like he thought he had. It was Hancock that knew her. The ghoul probably knew her favorite color, favorite book. He probably even held her hand, something Danse knew he wouldn't have done with her had she chose him instead.

Danse got pulled from his thoughts as the sound of bending wood hit his ears. He looked up to see Hancock pushing himself off of the old countertop. He stood straight up and stretched his arms up. He looked out a nearby window and Danse followed his gaze. That's when he realized just how dark it had gotten. Jesus, how long had they been in here? He frowned at what the settlers might think.

"Wanna get a drink?" The question stunned Danse, and despite years of intense hatred toward ghouls, he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the last chapter! It's encouraging! :D
> 
> I hope this chapter is enjoyable. I wanted to express their feelings regarding the sole survivor. While I've lived in US for many years I am not native English speaker and I have trouble with expressing emotions with english language ... I hope it sounds alright and not dumb :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to get out as many chapters as I can before classes start back in a few days. I stupidly took 6 classes this semester!

"Ya know, we actually ain't that different." Hancock slurred. Danse fingered the warm glass of whiskey he had. He wasn't as drunk as Hancock was--not in the slightest. Hancock guzzled down two tall bottles of whiskey and was working on a beer while Danse only had his second glass of whiskey. Danse had never been a heavy drinker and he was certain at least fifty percent of Hancock's body water content had been replaced by booze.

"I think we are plenty different," Danse commented, taking a swig of his drink. The allegation that the ghoul and he weren't different disturbed him and he honestly could not confidently pinpoint a distinct reason why.

"Naw," Hancock insisted with intoxication heavy in his voice, "See, err'one's a bigots out here. They hate us ghouls and synths alike. But I guess you guys don gotta worry bout it...cuz you don look tha part." Hancock drunkenly mumbled his words.

Danse huffed in annoyance. He had a mind to leave the ghouls claimed home and never come back. What made him think it was a good idea to come here in the first place? A few wired probably got crossed in his head he figured. If there was anything worse than a ghoul, it was a drunk ghoul. Slurring his words, insisting upon things that totally weren't true. Danse could think of a million and a half obvious facts that proved ghouls and synths were nothing alike.

"Synths can be fixed. They aren't like humans and ghouls. We don't feel things like you do. And the only thing that can fix a feral ghoul is a bullet between the eyes." Danse's words spilled coldly between his teeth and he glared harshly at Hancock, obviously meaning to sting.

Hancock got quiet, looking at him with unfocused eyes. Danse could nearly hear the gears turning in the ghoul's cranium. Danse held his gaze with the ghoul until he outstared him. Hancock faltered, and dropped his focus to inspect Danse's arm. Then he lifted his hand and outstretched it to Danses and gave the man a particularly hard pinch to his forearm.

Danse pulled away with a howl and shot daggers at the ghoul with his eyes. Hancock smiled a little lopsidedly despite the furious look on Danse's face.

"That hurt?" Hancock asked, amused.

"Of course it hurt! What are you, five?"  
Hancock shrugged. "Sorry, didn't think it would be a big deal. You not feeling an' shit." Hancock shook his head. "Always talkin' about how you're a synth and shit... always saying you don't understand your feelings anymore now that you know you're a robot and all of a sudden you can't feel human emotions." Hancock grimaced which only annoyed Danse more.

"What's your point, ghoul?" He grumbled.

"My point is if you are really so different than that shouldn't have hurt you one bit." Danse rolled his eyes. Hancock gulped his drink.

"It don't matter if it was made in a womb or a lab, you got flesh and blood just like the rest of us..." Hancock slowly closed his eyes and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, rocking slightly from his drunkenness.

"That still doesn't make me human."

The two fell into a silence full of awkward tension. The only sounds now were the sips of alcohol and uncomfortable breathing. If there was a proper time to leave, now would be it.

Danse stood up, ready to leave. He wasn't sure what to say to Hancock. _Goodbye, thanks for the drinks?_ No, that didn't sound right. What do you say to a man you've despised for months after he has drank with you?

Danse resorted to silence. He passed the ghoul who was now slumped over the table and headed for the door. It was late--approximately two in the morning by now. Early tomorrow morning the settlers of Sanctuary, along with the many visitors would finally lay Nora down to her final resting place. Danse vaguely remembered hearing the sound of shovels meeting earth nearby when he and Hancock had first begun to drink.

The memory of what Hancock had said about him and Nora now flooded back to Danse. He chanced a glance behind him to Hancock who was still slumped over, quiet. He wondered if he had passed out while sitting up. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself he shouldn't, he sympathized for the ghoul. Really, he sympathized with everyone who bemoaned Nora's absence. 

"Hancock?" He called his name, half expecting him not to respond.

But he did. "Yeah?" His voiced trembled like he was on the verge of tears. Danse decided Hancock probably just didn't want to be alone the night before they bury his lover. He couldn't help that, though.

"I uh, I'm sorry. For your loss."

"She's not just my loss. But thanks."

Danse turned for a final time, hand grasping the door. He faltered, and without turning, he thanked the ghoul.

"What you said earlier... the synth thing. Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it." He left the house without another word, door clicking closed behind him.

Hancock smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning of the burial the sky turned a sickly green and thick humidity suffocated the settlement. Everyone ran for cover as the first few drops of irradiated rain began to plummet to the wasteland. It seemed the entire universe was in mourning, even the sky shedding tears for their fallen hero.

The storm seemed unrelenting, and knowing the health risks it posed to most of the pallbearers, citizens from The Slog volunteered to take their places. 

Everyone watched from the safety of a house that still retained a proper roof as the ghouls, including Hancock, lowered the coffin down into the muddy hole.

Despite the deafening racket of the rain pounding into the soil, Danse could make out the sound of heavy mud hitting against the wooden coffin as they tasked at burying her.

Just as the ghouls finished the job, the rain let up. Drenched, the ghouls from The Slog made their way to the house and said their farewells and left for home.

Other guests announced they too would be leaving the next morning. It seemed everybody was now fixed in conversation except for Danse. He gazed out the window looking at Nora's grave.

The world around him began to fuzz out as his thoughts carried him away until two small children from Diamond City rushed past him, both sharing the duty of carrying a towel together. He watched as they enthusiastically rushed right up to a soaked Hancock who had just removed his heavy coat. Danse's eyes lingered on the ghoul's chest. His white shirt was equally as soaked as the rest of him, and it clung desperately to his body. It made it easy to make out the color of his skin beneath the wet shirt. Danse felt his heart skip a beat then. _Strange._

Hancock laughed as he took the towels from the gleeful children. They ran off afterward giggling. Danse had been shocked when the children arrived and were more than willing to get to know the ghouls. Being so young and from Diamond City, he understood that this was probably their first time seeing ghouls, and of course, they would be intrigued by them, but it shocked him to see just how fascinated they were. They didn't flee or cry. It mad him sick to watch how close they were willing to get to the ghouls, some going as far as hugging them and sitting on their laps.

"Some of the old women are going to plant flowers over her grave once it clears up."

"Flowers? That seems appropriate." Danse commented, not showing the surprise he felt by the ghoul sneaking up on him. Well, he didn't really sneak up on him, Danse had been zoning out a lot since the soles passing, he just didn't want to admit it.

"Yeah," Hancock nodded, fumbling with the buttons of his white shirt now. "And Piper wants to paint her gravemarker blue."

A laugh forced itself past Danse's lips. Just having Hancock talk to him lifted his mood instantly, and Danse found himself wondering why he was ever annoyed by the ghoul.

Hancock smiled at the laugh. He genuinely smiled, and so did Danse.

However, Danse's smile was short lived once Hancock began tugging the wet fabric off his shoulder and down his arms. No one in the room paid it much mind. He was simply removing his shirt, that's all. Why wouldn't he? He would be an idiot to keep a soaked shirt on, after all. But Danse was troubled by the display, and he couldn't pinpoint the reason why. He'd never paid any mind to ghouls before. He never paid attention to the way their skin dipped and curved.

He never paid attention to how skin met muscle like it was something natural. And he certainly never saw this much of a ghoul that wasn't feral. He gulped.

"Can't you do that in private? No one wants to see that." Resorting to insults, nice. Danse felt like kicking himself.

Hancock froze. Danse looked at him with disgust.

Hancock glared at him with a scowl. He turned at pushed himself through the people still talking, a towel clenched in his hand. 

Danse watched him until he disappeared and let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He looked down to see the soppy shirt of Hancock's on the floor. With a sigh, he lifted the dingy thing up and dropped it over a nail sticking out of the wall.

That night Danse couldn't get his mind off of that damn ghoul. While everyone else was sleeping, he was laying on a particularly stiff bed in his own self-claimed home, staring at the ceiling as he tried to piece together his newfound relationship with the ghoul.

They shared a love interest. They shared a night full of drinks. They shared a few laughs. They shared the heartbreak of losing an important person. But none of those things justified the way his stomach was doing flip flops now.

With a feeling of repugnance, Danse pinched the bridge of his nose to try to ease away a headache he could feel coming on. He needed to distance himself with this ghoul before things get worse. 

Rolling over with a groan, Danse tried to find a comfortable spot on his bed to no avail, the springs poking up painfully against his ribs. With a sigh of defeat,

Danse gave up on sleep and pushed himself up off the bed. He rubbed his tired eyes and flipped on a light.

When morning comes, he would tell Hancock he no longer felt any abhorrence toward him and his species. He'd tell him he appreciates that they can be civil with one another now, but they should keep their meetings to a minimum and not let their relationship lead to anything more than acquaintances.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter.  
> This will probably be the last quick update for awhile...I had planned to do a double update as I just completed editing one of my favorite chapters. While I was in the process of posting it my computer shut off! I wrote it in WordPad and stupidly didn't save a thing... I just haven't the heart to rewrite it right now because I know the chapter won't be near as good as when I first wrote it...I'm really bummed, lol.


	5. Chapter 5

Danse backed out of visiting Hancock that morning. Plagued by fatigue from loss of sleep, he put off their due confrontation for the next day, only to back out yet again. 

For a week now Danse struggled to sleep, haunted by nightmares and _'what-ifs'_. Every night he lay awake, either staring up at the grooves in the ceiling, drinking black coffee, or tinkering with weapons and armour.

A few times he'd manage to get some sleep only once the morning sun rose to chase away the blinding darkness of the night. For some reason, the light brought comfort to him.

He hadn't left his home in two days. Two days and not a single person cared enough to come check in on him. He couldn't blame them, though. He recognized and regretted the attitude he had early on. He couldn't blame them for not wanting to stop by. To be fair to them, though, they probably did not sense anything was wrong to begin with. He didn't necessarily feel sad about it. But with Nora gone, he felt disconsolate. A sense of desolate. Nora _always_ made sure to check in with people. 

Rubbing his tired eyes, Danse looked down at the old bed with distaste. _Maybe I need a new mattress_. he briefly wondered. The lamentable quality would certainly be his demise.

Feeling defeated, he crawled into bed anyway and forced his worn eyes closed.

Yet another night proved to be fitful. He tossed and turned all night. He'd never felt this so exhausted before. He groaned in annoyance and flopped over onto his side, catching a glimpse of the old radio perched on the table by his bed. He clicked it on, turned the volume down low, and listened as the sweet, calming rhythms of far away lands carried him away.

 

* * *

  
He woke up, stretching his arms high above his head and smiled the dopiest grin he'd ever smiled. The radio did indeed help soothe him to sleep and he was thankful for it. He felt refreshed, giddy even, ready to tackle the day. He reached over to turn the radio off before throwing himself off the bed. He stretched once more, arching his back and popping it. He quickly pulled on his jumpsuit and sought out to start his morning.

As he progressed through his morning routine, his mood dissipated. While the wound Nora left was still fresh in everyone's hearts, some healed faster than others. Everyone was beginning to move on with life, continuing along with their chores. Danse was not fortunate in that respect. Just the thought of picking up where they left off _alone_ unsettled Danse. It didn't feel right.

Nora was so different. She was comforting; an obvious mother. She was caring to those who needed it and relentless toward those who deserved it. She believed in the possibility of change and second chances. What in the world was the Commonwealth going to do without her?

 

* * *

 

Danse made his way to Sanctuaries proclaimed mess hall and was greeted by the wonderful aroma of food. Vegetable soup. While he would normally pass up an offer of anything to do with tato's as he despised the raunchy taste of them, today he was starved. Two days of black coffee would do that to a man.

He took a seat at one of the many long tables and waited for breakfast to be served. Soon enough Nick made his way over to him.

"Danse." Nick greeted.

"Valentine." Danse greeted back in a tone friendlier than he had used in the past.

Sensing no hostility, Nick took a seat across from the former soldier. A young settler woman quickly placed two steamy bowls in front of them. Danse stirred his soup to cool it down.

"So," Nick began by flicking his lighter and taking a long draw from his cigarette. "I see you and Hancock have made friends. Neither of you have been to meal time lately, you so more than him."

"We resolved our differences and I hold no grudges against him. Nothing more." Danse added to the conversation. Nick pressed his lips together into a fine line. He hesitated,

"I saw you leaving his house the other day, so I assumed--" Danse cut him off,  
  
"Don't assume anything." he commanded with more bite in his tone than he intended.

"Sorry," Nick apologises. "Nonetheless, it's good to see you two getting along." He offered a warm smiled and took another drag from his cigarette, some smoke escaping from his neck in the process. Danse personally didn't like to be engulphed in the odorous smoke while he ate, but he decided to keep his mouth shut about it. 

"Say, maybe you can coax Hancock out of hiding. We could use some extra hands down at the workstation."

Danse nodded. He was going to pay Hancock a visit today anyway, might as well relay a message. He ate quickly and left the mess hall even quicker.

Fortunately for Danse, his own house was closest to the mess hall. Unfortunately, Hancock's was further away. This meant Danse would have to pass Nora's home, now grave, in the process of getting to Hancock's house.

On the way, Danse didn't stop. He only glanced to see that they had, in fact, planted flowers over her grave.

As soon as his heavy boot hit the first step of the porch to Hancock's home, the door clicked open. Danse looked up in surprise, expecting to see Hancock, only to be met with the eyes of a woman instead.

From the looks of it, she was a traveling merchant. Nothing uncommon. Thanks to Sanctuaries ever growing population, merchants and drifters were coming through like no one's business. It was honestly a blessing, not having to scour the wasteland for odds and ends anymore. But why was she....?

He hastily pushed past her and entered the house.

"Hancock, I--" his words failed him in that moment. 

"Hey, I'll be with ya in juuuuuust a sec," the ghoul damn well hummed.

He was grinning smugly from ear to ear. Danse wanted nothing more than to smack that shit-eating grin off his face.

His tricorn was lost to the world and Hancock fought with the button of his trousers before winning the challenge and tying his flag around his waist. Danse may have been mostly lost when it came to anything to do with love, but he wasn't a fucking idiot. Still, he gave the ghoul the benefit of the doubt.

"Hancock, did you--with that woman--" He didn't know how to put it.

"Yeah." Hancock replied flatly.

Yeah. That's all he has to say. Yeah? Danse felt his blood boil. Nora had only been in the ground for two days. TWO DAYS. The soil of her grave still fresh. And Hancock had the nerve to pull this?

"But... Nora..." Danse was honestly bewildered. Hancock lifted an inhaler to his lips and sucked in.

"Best way to get over a woman is to get under a new one."

...

 ** _CRACK!_**  
  
Danse stormed out of Hancock's house in a furry. His feet pounded the old pavement of the road and he huffed with every breathe he took. He gave no respect to others in his haste to get as far away from that asshole as possible.

As Danse's luck would have it that there were witnesses to his hurried storm off.

"Danse? What happened?" Piper asked with worried eyes as he passed her. Of course, the nosey little reporter would be the first to stick her nose into it.

He did not stop to answer her question, he just kept marching forward. He could feel her eyes dart back and forth from Hancock's house to his back, and eventually he heard her footsteps scurry off opposite of him. No doubt to check on Hancock.

_The fucker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments on the previous chapter! I didn't reply to them but I did definitely read them all and I wanted to say thank you all for your kind words! I'm not as happy with this redo as I was with the original but it gets the idea across. I want to say I never planned to abandon this story like some had thought, I just hadn't planned to work on it for a while but your words really encouraged me to do so anyway. Thank you.
> 
> When I started this project it was for a friend. I had never even thought about this ship until he mentioned it. There was supposed to be a story with his request, but he told me he didn't like how long it was taking for the smut. We bickered a bit and in short, this story is no longer a gift for anyone and what happens from here on out is my own decisions alone. I hope everyone likes the pace this story is going at.


	6. Chapter 6

Hancock didn't deserve Nora.

He didn't deserve her smiles, laughs or her kindness.

He especially didn't deserve her love.

He would have shattered her heart into a million pieces over and over again, and she being the good-hearted and forgiving woman she was, would have taken him back each time he'd crawl back to her feet a shriveling mess of apologies.

Danse knows it. He just knows that's how their relationship would have gone.

Nora would be turning in her grave right now if she knew just what a sleazeball Hancock turned out to be.

Danse huffed, calming himself. He could physically feel his heart rate and blood pressure normalizing. 

In his storm off, he saw nothing but red. He couldn't even visually remember hitting Hancock, just the feeling of cracking the bastards jaw and the triumphant sting it left in his knuckles.

With the same fist he used to bash against Hancock's skull, he grabbed the doorknob to his home and yanked the door open. Any bit more force and the door would have come loose from its hinges. He walked in, inhaling the familiar musky scent the walls left and leaned against the closed door with a sigh.

Danse figured sooner or later people would come looking for him for answers.

He felt exhausted already and it wasn't even noon yet. He felt like the emotional turmoil would keep crashing against him until eventually, he'd succumb to it's punishing waves. 

 

* * *

 

Danse didn't know he'd even fallen asleep until he woke up with a start. Confused, he took in his surroundings long enough to realize where he was. He sat down in a less-than-comfy chair for only a moment, now six hours later he woke up still sitting in the same position with an aching back and crusted drool cracking on his face when his mouth twitched.

It's funny how fast a persons life can change. Danse briefly thought of the brotherhood and tried to imagine just what he might be doing now had he never been dismissed. He figured it was better to be here rather than in an early grave, even if _here_ was quickly beginning to sour on him...

Danse stood and lightly stepped to the nearest window. His usual heavy foot was replaced with tiptoes; as though he feared someone hearing him. He felt stupid, embarrassed even to feel the need to have to hide away in his home and avoid the public eye. He didn't think his and Hancock's little... mishap would give him the boot, but that still did not make Danse want to risk being bombarded with questions and concerns. Better to lay low until this whole thing blew over...

Danse peeked out the window to see the sun still hanging high in the sky. The days were always so long. He eyed down the broken pavement at Hancock's home and scowled. He needed to get that ghoul off of his mind. He had no business being on his mind in the first place.

He huffed in frustration and fiddled with the scratchy surface of the windowsill. With each passing day, thoughts of Hancock outweighed thoughts of Nora more and more. In the beginning, he couldn't sleep from her memory burning in his brain. Now...now his brain was beginning to feel branded by another... _thing_.

He pushed away from the window with more force than necessary. Danse felt strangely chilled and his eyelids felt too tight to close. A brief thought crept disgustingly across his mind and he had to bat it away quickly with a continuous chant of _"I hate that freak I hate that freak I hate that freak I hate that freak"_. 

He almost wanted to laugh at the ludicrous thought that he just smothered out but he feared too much that if he even dared to open his mouth he would vomit all over himself.

Machines shouldn't feel. 

What a nuisance having feelings turned out to be.

 

* * *

 

His head pounded worse than from any hangover he'd ever experienced in his life. His left temple throbbed and sent jolts of pain across his forehead when he turned his head the wrong way. A large knot adorned the side of his head and it blushed with an ugly purple. He wouldn't be wearing his tricorne for a while thanks to that tin can.

Luckily he probably would not be feeling this by the next morning thanks to the perks of ghoulification. His body healed much faster than humans and he thanked his lucky stars he wasn't a human, otherwise, that blow may have ended his days.

Hancock had to admit it, he didn't expect to get punched by the brute. It was a wonder Danse hadn't crack his skull open. He did break blood, however. All Hancock could recall of the ordeal was hazily pulling at his clothes, eyes completely averted from Danse, and then suddenly his teeth clacking together and blanking out. By the time he came to, Danse had already stormed out and Piper was shaking him frantically. 

It was kind of funny to hear Piper scream and run off with her arms flinging like a little girl. Wasn't so much fun having Curie poke and prod him like he was a voodoo doll, though.

Hancock grimaced.

What business of Danse's was his personal affairs, anyway? Maybe that tin can wanted to mope around for the rest of his days but that wasn't what he was about. Ghouls live long lives. He would have watched her die eventually, anyway. Maybe others, too.

When you're a ghoul you learn to never get too attached. Sure, it hurt like hell when Nora died. Hancock had never felt such pain in his life. He'd taken countless bullets, been beaten to a pulp, hell, he'd even suffered through becoming a ghoul. But none of those things even began to compare to the hurt he felt for Nora. 

Hancock loved her. He did want to spend a long life with her, maybe even find a way to turn her ghoul to ensure that long life with her. When she slept next to him the night they had gotten together, he stared at the stars and they reflected in his dark eyes. He wondered if he'd finally found his missing piece...

But he never got the chance to figure that out. Their love had gone just as fast as it came; she was there and then she wasn't. 

Maybe his coping mechanisms weren't ideal. Maybe that did make him a bad guy. Maybe that did make him a sleazeball and just reinforce that 'ghouls are awful' stereotype, but he wasn't about to dawdle on her memory until it sent him feral. Drugs, booze and women could cure a broken heart easily, even if only for a night. Hancock figured that out time after time again. 

Still. It _did_ feel like Danse knocked some sense into him. Hancock swore his 'touring' days were over. He told Nora she made him a better man. Why should that change because of her death?

A particularly painful throb made Hancock wince and stiffen. Once it eased he grumbled. He felt conflicted. On one hand, he could see why Danse had been furious. Hancock had to admit he could have phrased his... defamatory pastime better. On the other hand, people have to move on and Danse had absolutely no business trekking inside his private quarters and socking him one good.

With a headache creeping up from both the painful punch from earlier and thinking too hard on trivial matters, Hancock decided it best to retire to bed early. After a few puffs of jet to relax himself, Hancock closed the poor curtains to shield the light from the sun and crawled into bed.

Just down the road, Danse had similar thoughts and retired early as well despite being more than well-rested.

They both went to bed bedeviled by thoughts of the other.


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks pass by easily with nary a bump. Many people including Piper and Nick returned to their previous homes before the sole survivor emerged. Although Danse did not regard Nick nor Piper as more than acquaintances, he could not deny the heavy atmosphere that seemed to take the place of each person who departed the settlement.

Being honest, Danse could not blame anyone for leaving. Their hope and sense of purpose had ultimately vanished. Nora gave nearly everyone she crossed paths with a sense of optimism in a world stripped from it.

Danse wanted to leave. He wanted to leave this settlement behind and go back to the brotherhood. But that wasn't an option. He had no options.

Hancock however did. As much as he hated to, he decided it was time to return to Goodneighbor. 

He didn't hate returning because he despised the town--far from it actually. He hated to return because being out on the road made him feel alive again. It made him feel young. He often felt like an old man sitting on that couch all day having others do his dirty work for him. While it was a life of luxury--at least for Hancock's standards--it wasn't the life for him and Nora made him realize that. 

With a few personal items, mostly drugs, Hancock packed up and headed to the mess hall to say his goodbyes to the permanent settlers of the town. He had no plans of returning to this settlement, not anytime within the next hundred or so years at least.

It was high noon and hot by the time Hancock finished up in the mess hall. The handful of ghouls that had taken up residence here was especially sad to see him leave. Hancock knew it wasn't because they would miss him as a person. They would be missing him as a ghoul as his leave would drop the number of ghoul residence and no matter how friendly the town may be, ghouls never especially liked to be the minority of the group.

Exiting the mess hall, Hancock could not help but to glance over to the house closest--Danse's house. 

The tin can rarely left his quarters these days, always staying holed up in his home. Hancock knew he had it bad for Nora, he knew it before Danse even knew. And Hancock knew that if Danse continued to wallow in his own melancholia he would drive himself to his own death. Maybe he would have been able to help the man out. It almost seemed like they were becoming friends until Danse left a nice decoration adorning the ghouls temple. Hancock rubbed the bruise aimlessly with the sore memory.

With a sigh and a hesitant foot, Hancock knocked on Danses door to bid him a proper farewell. 

The door slowly squeaked open and Hancock could not conceal his smile at what greeted him.

Danse leaned against the panel of the doorway and loomed over Hancock with tired eyes and uncombed hair, facial hair thick and longer than usual. Was he working on a beard? It could work Hancock supposed. 

Danse did not utter a word. He let his silence be his question and Hancock understood.

"I uh... just wanted to say goodbye."

"You're leaving?" Danse kept a stoic face.

"Yeah." Hancock adverted his gaze and focused on nothing in particular on the floor. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets to prevent from fighting. "Figure there ain't nothing else left for me here. So I'm headed back to Goodneighbor."

Danse nodded, "I understand. Good luck on your trip." He began to close the door before a familiar hound slip out between the crack of the door and wall.  
Hancock and Danse both watched the pooch run passed them and settle by the steps of the house. Hancock turned back to Danse with a puzzled look.

"You have Dogmeat?"

Danse ran his fingers through his oily hair in a futile effort to fix it. "Yes. He took up with me here a few days ago. I didn't have the heart to turn him away." 

Hancock smiled at that. "That so? Well, take care of 'im."

Danse forced an awkward smile. He looked almost embarrassed, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I will. Take care of yourself, Hancock." 

Hancock nodded and turned away from Danse, petting Dogmeat on his way off the porch. Hancock shamelessly could not stop thinking of that embarrassed look he just whitnessed. It didn't suit a serious and toned man like Danse. He almost wanted to see it again, and again, and again.

Now two houses away, Hancock heard Danse call out to him. Turning, he saw that Danse had not moved from his place at the door.

"I'm sorry. For hitting you."

Hancock wondered if he was imagining things. His and Danse's relationship was strained to put it nicely and he was happy to have not been punched again for even attempting to say goodbye to the man. But an apology? That's a surprise.

Hancock waved him off. "Nah, don't worry about it. I probably would have done the same thing." He lied.

"Really?" Danse was unconvinced.

"Yeah." Hancock still lied. Danse said not another word and just watched the ghoul with unreadable eyes. Hancock fidgeted.

"If you want to come with, you're welcome to. Just sayin'." He didn't know why he offered.

"Really?" 

"Yeah." He didn't lie. A moment passed and Danses still form shifted from the door facing.

"Alright. I've got nothing better to do. Give me a minute." He retreated inside and closed the door behind him. 

Hancock actually felt relief. He didn't want to make the journey on his own. But that relief did not bat away the anxious feeling that still crept inside his gut. Hancock knew Danse hated ghouls and only recently began battling with his own feelings about it. He was glad the man was working on it, but damn he honestly feared the man could snap and kill him without a moment's notice.

Hancock's head was soon swimming. He felt woozy and the bottom of his stomach felt like it wanted to push itself up into his throat. He felt anxious and fidgety and he tapped his foot to try to calm himself down. When he felt the urge to hightail it out of there he reminded himself he was done running. So much was happening so fast and he did not know what to do but reach for the one thing that always eased his mind and nerves...

But before he could even make an attempt at shooting up, Danse reemerged with his few belongings in tow.

"Alright. Let's go." 

And with debatable smiles and the mutt trailing not far behind, the two put their differences aside for a moment and set out for an impetuous excursion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after this point is when the "enemies to friends to lovers" part finally begins!


End file.
